


Unbelievable

by dreamers_wonderland



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, Reader Insert, birthday gift, cos they done gonna fuck yall, implications of boning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-16
Updated: 2018-12-16
Packaged: 2019-09-20 15:06:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 756
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17024907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreamers_wonderland/pseuds/dreamers_wonderland
Summary: You made a point to not share your birthday with anyone - including your boyfriend, Hanzo.He wasn't very pleased to learn it from literally everyone else who had found out from general spying.Un. Believable.





	Unbelievable

**Author's Note:**

  * For [drivelings](https://archiveofourown.org/users/drivelings/gifts).



> Because someone is a goblin and didn't tell me it was her birthday until a MONTH after the fact.

The doors to the Watchtower swished open at 0245 with Hanzo on the other side, tired, bundled up in his thickest sweatshirt, while tugging a stocking cap low over his head to his furrowed brow. He stalked into the Watchtower. His eyes swept over empty front lobby, frown deepening at the display of brightly colored tissue paper and balloons that decorated the room.

He knew it.

He grumbled. He walked further into the Watchtower, making his way up the stairs, taking them two by two until he was on the second floor. He spotted your room – honestly he could have spotted your room from miles away given how garishly it had been decorated – and made his way over, careful not to make a sound.

You were a light sleeper. If you heard him, you’d wake up.

He set his things down in the hallway, eyeing your door as he pulled the stocking cap from his head. The gloves came after, then the jacket, the boots. He opened your door with a wave of his hand, cringing as it whispered open.

Your fan was going at full speed, pushing the heating of the Watchtower away and providing a simple white noise in the silence. Hanzo lifted his eyes to the ceiling in thanks as he tip toed over to the your bed, listening as the door slid shut behind him. Someone had taken to decorating your bedroom, he noted, most likely after you slept.

He wondered how they managed it. What did they give you to make you pass out so hard?

Hanzo twisted the tissue around his fingers, staring at the Happy Birthday banner that hung above your bed, framed by balloons in your favorite color.

With a soft sigh, he lowered himself onto the edge of your bed. You rolled over with a groan, mumbling, reaching out towards the weight that now burdened your bed. He, in turn, reached for your hand.

You squinted and mumbled for the low lights of your room to turn on. “Hanzo?” you asked softly.

“Good morning,” he whispered.

You rolled back over, still keeping a grip on his hand, and stared at the clock on your nightstand. Rolling back to him, your eyes narrowed to much they were almost closed, you whispered, “Its three in the morning.”

“Yes,” he replied, amused.

“Why are you here at three in the morning?” you asked. He didn’t answer, merely stared, reaching out with his free hand, brushing the hair from your face. There was a moment where your eyes widened. You sat up, the wide collar of your shirt sliding down over your shoulder and down your arm with the speed of your movements. “You’re here,” you said.

“I’m here,” he whispered. You reached up, cupping his face with both hands, moving closer until your bare legs brushed his cold pants. With your undivided attention, he reached up and gently pinched your nose between his fingers. “You didn’t tell me.”

You scrunched your nose, wiggling it until he set you free. “Didn’t tell you what?” you asked. You dropped your hands to his shoulders, letting your fingers dangle down his back, and traced slow, lazy circles over his shoulder blades. He motioned to the décor behind you and you twisted around. “Oh. That.” You shrugged. The shirt lowered on your shoulder. You could see his eyes focus on the exposed skin of your chest. “It’s not important.”

“It’s your birthday,” he pointed out. It took a moment for his eyes to meet yours again.

“Exactly. It’s not important.”

His eyebrows arched. “It’s your birthday,” he repeated slowly.

“It’s not important,” you replied even slower, “Is this why you showed up here? At three in the morning?”

“Because Lena decided to tell me that it was your birthday when she discovered that I, the man you love—”

“My boyfriend.”

“The man you love,” he repeated, “Did not know your own birthday.” He narrowed his eyes. “And had missed it for the past few years.”

You made a face that feigned innocence. He smiled. Hanzo leaned forward, taking your chin in his hand, and pressed the sweetest of kisses against your screwed up mouth. You relaxed, sighing. Your fingers reached up and slid into his hair. His other hand slid up your side as he lowered you to the mattress. The shirt pooled around his wrist.

“Happy birthday,” he whispered against your skin.

You gripped his shirt and pulled it over his head. “Happy birthday indeed,” you purred. Hanzo chuckled. He kissed you again.


End file.
